HE'S MY BROTHER

Chapter Seven - Strange Hands

Lammergeier was feeling very sorry for himself. For the third morning in a row, every other engine in the shed had gone off to work and left him all alone. And while Lammergeier's relationships with all his shed-mates were not the best these days, they still provided company and their conversations made for a soothing sort of white noise, even when he didn't take part and talk himself. The only things Lammergeier ever heard in the background when he was left on his own was the ringing and rumbling of shunting taking place in the nearby Knapford station yard and the whistles of fellow engines coming and going from the platforms, all of whom he knew and could identify by now. At times, it sounded like every other tender engine on the whole of Sodor was out there, passing through Knapford and going about their jobs, while he was left behind to do nothing but stare at the nearby outbuildings across the way and watch the frost slowly melt off their rooves as the noon hour approached. If he was really lucky, there'd be an icicle left over from the day before, which would eventually melt enough to crack off and crash down onto the ground beneath. Nobody had gotten hit yet by these occasional aerial assaults, but Lammergeier still had hope.

The worst part about being left on his own was that it gave him plenty of time to mentally replay his recent argument with Adler in a vain attempt to understand how it had gone so wrong. Lammergeier had always thought his brother to be an intelligent and sensible engine. He'd expected him to be defensive at first, angry even, when he'd tried to warn him about the follies of becoming too attached to the humans, but after that he should have come around and heeded Lammergeier's advice or at least promised to think over what he'd been told. Instead, Adler had gone off on him, his own long-buried temper emerging at last to lend fuel to his assertion that he had no idea of what Lammergeier was going on about and what's more, that he had no business trying to tell Adler whom he should or shouldn't be befriending, let along loving. It had devolved steadily after that with final accusations of craziness and willful stupidity hurled back and forth until both engines had been left exhausted and badly hurt. Worst of all was Lammergeier's growing suspicion that Adler lacked the mental acuity to even fully comprehend his warnings—they all seemed oblivious to the truth or in a state of serious denial, every single one of them—and that was something he dreaded, the thought that there was no helping his brother or any of the others.

As usual, Lammergeier's solitary emotional turmoil soon proved so draining that he became tired enough to seek some solace in a nap. Sleep also helped pass the time until his crew came for him after lunch. Despite all his wariness and the care he took when interacting with the humans, he did still feel a certain genuine gratitude towards the Doyons for continuing to find work for him to do almost every single afternoon and sometimes on into the evening. It went a long way to keeping him sane these days. He just wished he could think of some way to keep Denise away from his brother, now that he knew how smitten he was with her, without incurring her disfavour or losing her services for himself.

He closed his eyes, willing himself into light torpor. Real sleep was better, but he wasn't quite that tired, plus which he—

"Wakey wakey, Lammergeier!"

Oh no… He knew that voice. Not that annoying Christophe person! For a few seconds more, Lammergeier hung onto his pretense of being fast asleep, then something occurred to him that had him slowly cracking his eyelids apart. Yes, there the man was, standing right on the track in front of him, wearing a railway worker's uniform, not his working engineer's outfit. The 48 blinked a few times, as if coming slowly awake.

"Well, about time," Christophe said. "Good morning!"

Lammergeier looked him over. "Are you and Denise going to take me out?" he asked hopefully in French, even though Christophe was speaking English.

"I am. Not Denise."

He motioned at someone off by the engine's back end, and a moment later, another man he'd never seen before walked into Lammergeier's field of vision. In general shape and make, he looked exactly like Pierre, a tall man with broad shoulders and glossy black hair and eyes. The only real differences were that he had no hair on his face and that his skin was dark brown. He stopped next to Christophe and smiled kindly at the locomotive.

"Lammergeier, this is Mister Surendra Thakur. He's going to be your new fireman."

"Hi," said Surendra. He added a little wave of greeting, still smiling.

"So, good news, eh? You've finally got your own crew! Me and Surendra. No more lazing around the roundhouse every morning for you, old boy!"

Lammergeier had been fighting—something—all the while the humans were making their introductions and this last rather belittling remark (in his estimation) eroded away the last of his usual caution. "You don't know how to drive me!" he flung back at Christophe without thinking, still speaking French.

"Au contraire and English please, my rude iron friend. I've driven Adi quite a bit and we get on fine together. He's a 48. You're a 48. It stands to reason that we'll suit each other just fine as well."

"Don't you already have a job?" Lammergeier persisted, starting to sound a little frantic, ignoring Christophe's request to change languages.

"Yes, and now I have an additional job. Don't worry. If I'm needed up at the steamworks during the day, Denise'll be by to fill in, so you'll still get to see her from time to time. But in the meantime, we're it. Count yourself lucky and enjoy."

He made another gesture at Surendra and the two men went back to the loco's cab without another word. Lammergeier still felt a little stunned and he would have been furious had he known how close his new crew had just come to laughing aloud at his consternation. Yes, he'd wanted to get out of the sheds and onto the rails, but not like this! Why did it have to be Christophe, why him? Lammergeier calmed down some as the men began setting his fire and doing their checks, and upon reflection, decided that he'd better swallow the remainder of his protests. The new fireman was an unknown element, but Christophe…he still held far too much sway when it came to any of the foreign engines, including Lammergeier himself. It wouldn't do to antagonize him too much. A negative assessment from him could mean real trouble for an engine and Lammergeier couldn't afford any more negativity in his life just now.

And so, Lammergeier sat there in his berth, silent and sullen, while he waited for his steam to come up. He could hear the men talking together in his cab and began eavesdropping. Christophe was telling the fireman something about how hot his firebox burned when he was working at high pressures and how quickly his coal would catch when tossed in at such times. Apparently, Pierre had shoveled in too much once when they'd been running Adler up for his first speed trial way back when and had just about sent him into orbit and blown his safety valve…the coal had ignited in mid-air, he'd sworn after the fact. The new fireman laughed at that and promised he'd remember his colleague's miscalculation and be careful. Lammergeier, despite his determination to be cool and aloof, was also amused. He was picturing Adler's face, flushed and overheated, as his safety valve popped, his probable dismay as he must've wondered if the people aboard even knew what they were doing. Oh yes, it would be fun to tease him with this new little factoid. Then Lammergeier remembered that Adler was currently mad at him and wouldn't tolerate any teasing for a long, long time. The big 48 sighed a little, his sullenness turned aloofness shifting over again into simple unhappiness. He hated being at odds with his brother, although he still felt himself to have been in the right.

When his new crew got ready to take him out, Lammergeier braced himself for some rough handling, but needn't have worried; Christophe knew just how to apply his steam for a silky-smooth start, and Lammergeier could tell almost at once that there was a wealth of experience behind the new hands working his controls. It was a disconcerting discovery. The engine knew he'd have a hard time slipping anything past such a driver. Nonetheless, he couldn't help trying, and as soon as they'd gotten out onto the lines, attempted to speed up a little, ever so slightly, beyond what was being asked of him…

"Lammergeier! Stop pulling!"

"Je ne suis pas!"

"Yes, you are! I can tell. Cut it out! And speak English from now on when Surendra is present. He doesn't understand French. I don't want to have to remind you about this again."

The engine said nothing more and the throttle went slack again in Christophe's hand. The two men exchanged grins. Surendra was impressed. This was exactly what Christophe had warned him would happen. The little engineer gave it another minute to let the reprimand sink in, then addressed his loco again.

"Lammergeier," he said, his tone now much friendlier, "the reason I don't want you speeding up and wasting your strength is because we've got a really big delivery of slate to bring down to Brendam today. You'll be alternating with Hurricane, bringing down a load while Hurricane brings back the empties and so forth. Hurricane's driver, Lorne, and I told Sir Topham that we should be able to handle the job ourselves and get it done by three or four this afternoon…if not, and we fall behind, Adi'll be available to help pick up the slack after lunchtime. So that's the plan right now, with us starting off from the quarry and Hurricane'll be picking up some of the trucks left at the docks. That's the kind of job you like, right? Moving lots of heavy trains? Lots of stupid trucks to boss around?"

Lammergeier still said nothing and Christophe didn't really expect him to. He also didn't need him to for he'd sensed that the engine had just undergone an attitudinal shift just as surely as if he'd begun chuffing up an incline…just that same feeling of having been uplifted. The man expected that Lammergeier would remain miffed for some time yet about having been caught out trying to secretly take charge and being told to speak English, but as long as he worked well, Christophe didn't really care if his engine was annoyed with him. He always valued respect and obedience a good deal more from his locomotives over whether they liked him anyway, and he knew that Surendra, though gentle and kind-hearted, felt much the same way.

By the time they reached Gordon's Hill en route to the Blue Mountain slate quarry, Christophe was pleased enough with Lammergeier's behaviour to allow him a bit of a run; the engine, surprised, hesitated a few seconds before stretching out and charging up the long slope. Surendra was again impressed, this time by the engine's swift acceleration. "He's quick," he remarked.

"Yup. A lot of tractive power in this one for the size of him…overpowered, really. He skips right along without a train behind." He eased the throttle back again as soon as they crested the hill. "Well, enough of that. It wouldn't do to derail on our first day out…would it, Lammergeier?"

The engine didn't reply, in part because he was too busy trying to sort out his feelings. He was still ticked off over having been scolded, yet then Christophe had turned around and given him free rein for a blissful brief interlude after all. And now the request to slow right down after his burst of speed, not that he had any choice but to obey, given the curve the track took at the base of the hill…was this another test, another way for his new driver to assert his authority? Or was he just showing off his paces to the new fireman? Lammergeier didn't know, and not knowing made him uneasy.

He consoled himself by concentrating on what Christophe had told him about his day's work. It was quite true that he liked moving heavy goods. And moving slate was very heavy work indeed, plus which he liked going up to the quarry and seeing all the cheerful little engines there. He'd never even seen narrow gauge locos before coming to Sodor. Victor, who worked and resided at the Sodor Steamworks, had been the first such engine he'd met, and Lammergeier had been surprised to discover that he was an immigrant to the Island, just like himself. Unfortunately, the only language they had in common was English, and Lammergeier's grasp of it had not been very good yet during his restoration stay, otherwise he would have liked to have spoken more with the Cuban native. The little engines up at the quarry, on the other hand…they were local, he supposed, but VERY local, meaning that some of them spoke English with such strong dialects that he still had difficulty understanding them. The one thing they all managed to convey even so and which pleased him was that they all seemed to rather admire him for doing freight work at all. He didn't realize that to the quarry locos he looked on the surface like the quintessential stuck-up passenger engine and that they liked him because he didn't think that delivering their goods was beneath him, unlike a couple of snooty blue and red individuals they could think of.

There was one other great thing about him, and his brother too, the quarry engines thought; all the trucks were terrified of him. The silly trucks were convinced that Lammergeier and Adler were Nazis, not that they knew exactly what Nazis were, just that they came from Germany and were incredibly mean and would just as soon kill you as look at you if you gave them any grief or just drew their attention in any way. Adler was actually quite decent to the trucks, but Lammergeier sometimes glared at them and thus their terror continued. The two 48s never had the slightest problem with their trains as a result and the quarry engines weren't about to blow the whistle. (Again, sorry.) The fact was that he resident locos quite enjoyed seeing the trucks half-petrified with fear, given how irritating they could sometimes be during everyday operations.

Hurricane was the other engine that they liked to see come up to take slate or stone trains because he likewise scared the bejeezes out of the troublesome trucks. In Hurricane's case, it was more than just a bad reputation. He had zero patience with trucks and working stock of all sorts and actually did have a bit of a mean streak, which he'd unleash on them at the slightest provocation. Any truck that dared give him any lip, even in jest, very quickly found themselves a bashed truck, and Hurricane bashed hard. A train of giggly goods haulers which Thomas had once tried to take to a big yard over on the Mainland, but who'd come under the untender care of Hurricane instead, could attest to that.

The quarry engines had already been working hard since dawn to get every available truck onsite loaded up for one of their biggest orders of the year and were quite delighted when they first saw who'd been assigned to deliver the valuable cut stone to Brendam Docks.

"Hellooo!" called the little red engine named Skarloey. "Glad to see you, Lambchop."

"Will y' be with us all day?" asked the other little red engine, who was called Rheneas. Or perhaps he had that reversed, thought Lammergeier…he had trouble keeping the two of them straight.

"Hallo back, and ja, I work here all day," Lammergeier replied agreeably. "Hurricane is work too. He vill come soon from ze docks mit empty trucks."

"Perfect," yet another of the small narrow gauge locos remarked, this one green. "That'll give us a bit of a break in the meantime."

They all watched as the big 48 was nimbly reversed and began backing up to the waiting string of filled trucks, all of whom had gone quite pallid and wide-eyed at the mere sight of Lammergeier. Surendra climbed down, coupled his loco up, and walked back, counting off half of what was available to make up their first train. Their total load would amount to quite a bit less than what he understood Lammergeier could reasonably manage under normal circumstances, but they needed to leave something for Hurricane and were going for a degree of speed today, Christophe had told him. There was also the brake van to consider and add, being manned by a cheerful rear guard named Dafydd. An international grab bag of names today, Christophe couldn't help thinking with amusement as he met his new guard and shook his hand. Given his own name and that of Surendra, Lammergeier and now this Dafydd fellow, they'd be a nightmare crew to introduce for anyone with pronunciation issues.

They started off on their first run. It was crisp and frigid that morning and most of the frost had already been burnt off the rails by the bright sunshine, which still had a little residual strength to it. Although the heavier snowfalls were still to come, fall had set in with a vengeance right after Lammergeier's exhibition weekend at Ulfstead and it had turned cold and blustery, with many days of cloudy, turbulent skies that often sent down spits of rain or ice pellets. The excursion trains with their warm enclosed weathertight coaches had still run, but the exhibition and estate tour offerings at Sir Robert Norramby's railway museum had immediately been scaled back, for no one could enjoy wandering about and looking at locos out in the open with icy-cold precipitation hammering down on their heads and harsh, whipping winds yanking at their clothing. Lammergeier and the other Knapford engines hadn't been put on display since and now even the tourist trains were about to finish up their season for the year. It did free them all up for more general work, though, such as Lammergeier's current job.

Lammergeier didn't mind the cold and neither did his cold-hardy Canadian driver and the man in the brake van. Surendra, though…Surendra was appreciating Lammergeier's enclosed cab and his nice hot fire at the moment. He was far more used to dealing with monsoons and tropical heat and had never even seen snow before coming to Sodor just a few short months ago.

About halfway through their trip and right on schedule, they saw Hurricane approaching on the other track with his train of empties and his own brake van. The two engines exchanged whistles. Even though Lammergeier still didn't think too much of Hurricane as an individual and considered him coarse, he knew that the big tank engine was just as industrious as himself and could be counted on to pull his share and was reliable. He preferred working with Hurricane more than with some of the other tender engines he knew as a result.

Once they'd arrived at Brendam Docks, Lammergeier's first train was quickly broken down and his trucks shunted aside, and the dockyard's diesel shunter, Salty, stepped in to help reassemble the 48's new train. The ship that was to take the delivery of slate was already present for loading and the plan was to get a continuous run of exchanges going for the remainder of the day. All went well with no delays or difficulties and Lammergeier was soon on his way again, travelling a good bit faster than before now that he had so much less weight behind. His much-improved behaviour, especially his ready compliance and acceptance of his new driver's orders ever since leaving the Blue Mountain Quarry, was making Christophe smile. It was just as Denise had maintained. Once out on the rails and on the job and confident in his crew's abilities and handling, Lammergeier became docile and obedient, a welcome change from his first few minutes en route that morning.

The narrow gauge engines already had a new loaded train ready for him when Lammergeier chuffed in with his empties and it only took a short while longer for him to replenish his water and coal stores, pick up the loaded trucks and get his brake van reattached, and be off again. He was feeling very good and glad to be working so well, and had to admit to himself that even if the crew in his cab was not the one he wanted, they were doing a fine job so far and he had nothing whatsoever to complain about. The new fireman was obviously experienced and had quickly determined what Lammergeier needed to do his very best, and Christophe…well, his driving so far seemed to be right up there on par with his engineering and fitting skills, which the engine found quite surprising, albeit a welcome surprise.

Unbeknownst to Lammergeier, Christophe and Lorne Paulson, who drove Hurricane, had already decided the day before that they'd both take a half-hour break for lunch at whatever end of their delivery run they happened to be closest to when the noon hour rolled around. For the 48 and his crew that meant they later wound up taking their break while pulled over in a siding right on one of the Brendam wharfs next to the water. The men sat on a couple of small crates next to their engine's leading axels so he could look down and see them and they could see him while they unpacked their meals and unscrewed their thermoses to pour out the first of several cups of good hot sweetened tea or coffee. They were all happy campers, all except for Lammergeier. The engine had been on a roll and was feeling rather annoyed that he'd been pulled over for what in his opinion was an unnecessary stop.

To add to his displeasure, all Christophe had to do was take one look at his face to know exactly what was up with him. He hated when that happened!

"Lammergeier," the man said to his engine, "I know you feel fine right now and didn't want to stop, but trust me, you'll appreciate this rest later on this afternoon. Plus which we humans need to fuel up too. Just take it easy and relax."

"Yes, and you're not used to working full days either," added Surendra, then looked at Christophe to be sure. "Is he?"

"Nope, you're right. Afternoons only for a while now." He eyed his fireman's heavy coat. "You sure you're warm enough? You look the way I'd dress for a blizzard."

Surendra grinned, a little sheepishly. "This cold is going to take some getting used to," he admitted.

"Cold! This ain't cold," Dafydd the brake guard snorted. "Wait'll we get our first decent snowfall and it gets cold enough to stay. That's when it's cold. At least you gotta nice hot fire to warm you up. Bet you're kinda glad you're a fireman right now."

"Very glad," Surendra agreed.

They tucked into their lunches. When Surendra opened one of his containers, the other two went instantly alert, like two setter dogs scenting a pheasant.

"Is that curry?" asked Christophe. "Oh, it smells good."

"Yeah, I loves me a good curry," added Dafydd, and Surendra capitulated with a grin and handed his container over so his two colleagues could each try a few spoonfuls. Their verdict was very positive.

"Mm, that's nice," Christophe opined. "Did you make that yourself?"

"Yes I did."

"You're a good cook." The little engineer slash driver sorted through his own lunch bag. "I'd like to give you one of my little tourtieres, but I'm guessing that you don't eat pork or beef, do you?"

"No, you're quite right, my friend. I do not eat anything that wore fur or feathers."

"What about milk and stuff? An' eggs?" asked Dafydd. "You gotta like eggs."

"Those are fine," Surendra confirmed, happy that his new friends were being both curious and tolerant. "Animal products are fine."

"Here, try this."

The brake guard handed over a piece of hard yellow cheese. Surendra's eyes opened wide with surprise at the first mouthful.

"Oh. Very good! What do you call this?"

"That's sharp cheddar, off a farm just down the road from me. It's good you'll eat cheese cause they make lotsa terrific ones right here on Sodor."

"I'll vouch for that," said Christophe. "The local varieties are all excellent. A cheese connoisseur's dream, really." He eyed his new fireman with pleasure. "I don't suppose you'll eat fish."

"Ah, but I do! I like to eat fish, shellfish, all that cold-blooded fare. It's only the mammals and birds I avoid."

"Gotcha. Do you like to fish yourself, Surendra? Are you an angler?"

"Yes I am."

"Fly fishing? Other?"

"Definitely other. A worm on a hook or lures are ambitious enough for me."

"That's great!" Christophe enthused. "I like to fish too, and the couple I live with are keen on it as well. I guess you could say we're a real fishing household. Once it gets warm again, come spring, we'll have to get you to keep a rod and some tackle in your locker at the Knapford sheds. There are tons of great spots to fish right up next to the tracks, and if we get jobs with a couple of hours off between them, we can have a go at catching our lunch and maybe a few extras to take home. I've still got a whole bunch of locomotive cookware I brought over from Canada, too, so if we're lucky and they're biting, we could cook up a meal right on the spot in Lammergeier's firebox."

The engine in question had been listening in to the men's chat and finding it so deathly dull that he'd been half-asleep, but that last comment pierced through his idleness like a red-hot poker.

"Vhat!" he cried, jolting wide awake.

Christophe looked up at him, amused.

"Don't they do that in Germany, Lammergeier?"

"Nein! N-non! No!" He was still so flustered that he had to run through his entire repertoire of languages before he hit on the one response that wouldn't earn him another reprimand. His driver, impressed, thought he deserved an A plus for effort.

"Well, they're missing out then. There's nothing nicer than a couple of fresh seasoned trout fillets baked in a firebox."

"It stink!" the 48 insisted.

"Oh, don't be silly. All you'd smell is the sheer deliciousness, if it's done right. I've cooked up a lot of great fresh-caught or fresh-shot meals thanks to the engines I used to drive back in Canada, especially on the Northern routes. Canada's a vast country. A good locomotive's more than just a machine to pull trains there. On the longer runs, they become temporary lodgings sometimes. Surendra, I'm guessing you know a bit of what I mean. India's a pretty big country too, isn't it?"

"That it is," he said, "and I confess I've warmed up my share of meals and boiled a lot of tea-water without leaving my engines' cabs too. It was often safer than risking a campfire in a wooded area."

"Exactly. So wipe that look of disgust off your face, Lammergeier. It could be a safety issue. You don't want us taking the risk of cooking our lunch on an open fire next to the tracks and setting the whole Island ablaze, now do you?"

Christophe was just kidding around by this point and the other two men were smirking right along, but Lammergeier continued to look appalled. He managed to stay offended all through the remainder of their lunch break and swore to himself that he'd find out if there wasn't some railway regulation already in place that would prevent his crazy new crew from trying to turn him into a bakery on wheels.

When they were all ready to go with a fresh train of empties attached, Lammergeier was so eager to get back to work that he barged ahead, but checked himself almost immediately before anyone got too rattled. Christophe was willing to overlook his lapse and said nothing. He thought it a good sign that the engine had restrained himself voluntarily.

Their runs resumed without incident and it all went so smoothly and with such good coordination at both ends that there was no need whatsoever to even consider bringing in any help that day. It wasn't even midafternoon before Lammergeier and his crew found themselves bringing the very last load, a mere four more trucks' worth, down to the docks. They arrived precisely at ten minutes to three, early enough that Christophe decided that they might as well wait until their trucks were unloaded and then add them to their last train of empties. He knew that the folks at the quarry would be happy to get all their trucks back that same day instead of having to remember to retrieve a few last stragglers left behind sometime down the road.

Lammergeier had no trouble pulling the extra long train once they got back at it and the little engines and their crews at the Blue Mountain Quarry were indeed happy to see every last one of their trucks brought back, safe and sound and still (refreshingly!) subdued. It had been a good bit of work. Lammergeier and his new crew departed amidst many thanks and much goodwill and made their way home still ahead of schedule and with all concerned feeling pretty good about themselves. The engine was also happier than usual to return to his roundhouse and his own cozy berth. He was just starting to feel the first twinges of fatigue as he approached Knapford and had to admit to himself that it was a good thing that Christophe had enforced a noontime break after all.

Hurricane had gotten in earlier and had already been done up by his crew for the night and so had Adler and Guy; all three greeted Lammergeier cordially as he backed in. The temperature had already dipped below freezing and because of that the 48's own crew opted not to wash him down, but they did want to at least get the day's dust off his face and polish up his trim and cab. Christophe was also curious to see how Lammergeier would react to his touch. Like Denise, he believed that how an engine first responded to having his face cleaned by a new person was a pretty good barometer of their attitude towards human and engine interactions in general. He found it hard to believe that Lammergeier wouldn't trust Denise, who was about the kindest and least threatening railway worker he'd ever known.

Lammergeier gave Christophe a single startled glance when the man first climbed up with his buckets of hot water and cleaning implements, then stared stonily ahead. He said nothing while Christophe washed him and kept his eyes open the entire time aside from when he needed to close them to have his eyelids wiped. And it was true—he never relaxed. The amorphous alloy beneath Christophe's hands remained as firm and unyielding as hard rubber, the same texture their faces typically maintained when engines were on the move and needed protecting from flying insects or other debris or anytime they were simply working under conditions that might prove hazardous. Lammergeier should feel perfectly safe in his berth, secure enough to allow his literal safeguards down, yet for some reason he would not. Not while Christophe was there and touching him, he wouldn't.

It was a rather sad discovery, but Lammergeier had behaved better than expected in so many other ways that Christophe just shrugged it off for now and tried not to take it personally. As long as the engine didn't resist or act up when being groomed, it didn't matter anyway. He finished off by giving the gold bands encircling Lammergeier's boiler and his nameplate a quick wipe, then climbed down again to give Surendra a hand with cleaning up his cab. It was their last task before wishing their engine well for the night and leaving. The big 48 watched the men go, his expression suggesting relief. He would have been happier had they just gone and left him in peace as soon as they'd arrived.

Adler had also been waiting for the humans to leave so he could speak more intimately with his brother. "So?" he asked in German as soon as he could. "How did it go? Do you like your new crew?"

Lammergeier eyed the engine next to him with sudden suspicion.

"Did you know they were going to become my crew?" he demanded. "Christophe and that-that other man?" He couldn't remember the other man's name and it made him even more irritable.

"Mister Pelletier and Mister Thakur both joined my own crew a couple of days last week to get in some practice, so yes, I did know," Adler replied easily, too easily for Lammergeier's taste.

"You should have told me."

"I couldn't. They asked me not to tell you."

"Who cares? You should have warned me anyway!" Lammergeier snapped back, and Adler regarded him helplessly. How to even respond to something like that?

"They asked me not to," Adler reiterated, "and besides, I hardly see why you needed warning. They're both very nice and very good drivers. And Mister Pelletier's an engineer on top of being a driver. I should think you'd be thrilled to have so much experience at your beck and call."

"Oh, leave me alone," his brother moaned and fell into one of his patented sulks.

So ended Lammergeier's first day as a full-fledged working engine with his very own crew.

to be continued...